Don't
by TheWeasleyBoys
Summary: Life just wasn't the same after Georgie died... Half movie, half novel, all Pete. Enjoy.


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but this little poem. That is all.

**Author's Note:** What what _what_? Not a single solitary slovo about little Pete in the whole of this mesto? Impossible impossible!

*ahem*

This was dying to be typed after a list of curious circumstances led me to this section of the site:

1. Someone on an Avatar: The Last Airbender discussion board had Alex as their avatar,

2. A pixel artist did the Korova Milk Bar as an isometric work of art,

3. I based a fanfiction OC for a different cult classic off of this movie's title character,

4. I saw 2 collections of screenshots and read a draft of the script at least 5 times,

5. I caught on to what may be the least spooky of the foursome (in my opinion, that is) and was promptly reminded of some of my own dark decisions in my past.

As you probably have guessed, I could no longer ignore the omens and pretend that I never had days where I just wanted to take my anger out on something…or someone. Instead, I rolled up my sleeves and started to work on my very first poem for this site, and probably for this section as well. One thing rings true to me about this dark story, and that's the idea that if there are few to no rules within a certain society, eventually people start making their own. That's how it was within a roleplay that went to hell in a handbasket for me, and I guess that's how it will be with any other society, real or virtual.

At the same time, people can change, and like this character, I hope I've changed by leaving that game behind me and cleaning up my act by following all the rules in another more structured, less hellish rp board. I also hope to write away the aftershocks of this experience with one-shots like these, and pray that it has some kind of therapeutic healing hidden within.

And so, without further adieu…I give you this half-movie, half-novel hybrid detailing what could have happened (in Pete's words) after Georgie's original fate and an almost-guaranteed fallout between the two remaining droogs, as indicated by that part in the book where Dim pretends not to know who Pete was. It was begging to be made, and I hope my efforts amount to something acceptable by most, if not all.

**Don't**

Don't ask what I did last nochy,  
You're the one not doing your job.  
If you patrolled the country dark,  
No one would ever get robbed.

Don't touch my poor tolchocked litso,  
In time, the bruises go away.  
Why don't you check my temperature  
And skazat if I'm ill today?

Don't wonder why I don't come home  
Until long after dinner's through.  
Just itty about your business  
It's got nothing to do with you.

Don't ask me why I'm not at work  
Or why I sit here on my own,  
I'll visit that cantora soon  
And I am well past fully grown.

Don't slooshy to me thrash around  
Or ask about what I viddy,  
They're not your problem, by the way  
The issue lies with me me me.

Don't you like stare at my sleepers  
Or at the twitch behind my grin;  
I'm feeling really worn out now,  
I'm the most fashed I've ever been.

Don't bother me on where they went,  
I'm begging you, don't ever start.  
I'd sooner think we'd never met  
Instead of how we fell apart.

Don't drive me to that doctor's place  
I swear to you I'm like all right,  
There's no cure for the loud creeches  
That jab and stab my head at night.

Don't send me to this therapist  
As if he's really got a clue.  
Why can't I fix this on my own  
Instead of always pleasing you?

Don't sit me on that starry couch  
Not a veshch is wrong, I swear it  
Why ask me questions, anyway?  
Do you think that you could bear it?

Don't send me to my relatives  
There's nothing more that they can do,  
There's nothing anyone can say  
That hasn't just been said by you.

Don't ask me to viddy your shows,  
Don't ask if I want to sit down,  
Don't wonder at the pain that hides  
Somewhere deep behind my frown.

Don't give me more pishcha to eat  
Or pass me something hot to drink;  
My appetite's fine, now please give me  
Malenky times alone to think.

Don't wake me up in the morning  
I'd really rather stay in bed,  
Why should I viddy the living  
When my radosty's with the dead?

Don't say I don't remember you,  
You came back to haunt all my dreams.  
I can't like escape the victims  
When they greet me with their screams.

I let them talk me into it  
I thought it would be only fair;  
I did it so _they'd_ live unharmed  
But none of them are anywhere…


End file.
